I'd Lie
by Cheap Indifference
Summary: Sometimes lying is all you can do to make someone feel better.


**A/N: This is my very late birthday present to writersblock242. I'm sorry it's so late, but it's here and I hope you adore it as much as I adore you. Happy Birthday!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders; it's all Susie's. I also do not own I'd Lie by Taylor Swift**

I really wasn't in the mood to crash at Buck's tonight. I had a fucking headache, because the 'ol man decided I was a waste of space. Something to that extent. I just wanted peace and quiet without having to hold a pillow over my head to drown out the sound of Hank Williams.

There was always one place I could go. One where I knew I would be okay, even just for a little while. A place where I felt safe. The one place where I was protected from all the bad shit that seemed to follow me around wherever I went.

The Curtises'. The family I didn't fucking dare dream about havin'. They were almost too perfect. Sometimes, I'd get that bile taste in my mouth just from how fucking perfect they were. Mr. Curtis was… well I couldn't even compare 'im to Ray. Mr. Curtis was pretty much everything Ray wasn't, and I as much as I hated to admit it, I envied the Curtis boys.

They had a dad who could teach them everything dads were supposed to teach their sons: how to throw a ball, how to drive, how to shave, how to be the best man you could be. Not only that, but they had something I never even had the fucking chance to have: they had the most amazing mother that anyone could ask for.

She was the most understanding person I'd ever met; she seemed to understand everything. It's probably where Soda got it from. She was the closest thing I had ever had to a mother figure. She really had a way of pissing me of, too. She was always trying to talk some sense into me, and she had a way of actually stopping me from getting into trouble.

She saved me from myself, and I owed her.

I walked up the front steps, quietly opening the door. Mrs. Curtis always said that I was welcome to spend the night whenever I needed. I rarely took her up on it, even though she mentioned it almost every time I saw her. The Curtis' sure as hell couldn't afford to have me sleeping on their couch; they had three kids and I couldn't help but feel like a fucking idiot for being a fourth.

I made my way to the couch, noticing someone slumped in a kitchen chair. It was either Mr. Curtis or Darry—it was too dark to see . As I got closer I noticed it was Darry sitting there with a blank face and a bottle of whiskey in hand.

It wasn't like him. Sure, Darry knew how to have fun. The two of us had had some pretty fun weekends, but he had far too much respect for his parents to actually get soused in their house. That's how I knew something was wrong.

I pulled out the chair beside him and grabbed the empty bottle from his grip. Darrel was my best friend; out of everyone I knew Darry was the most loyal and was a person I could trust. He was smart, and I had nothing but respect for him.

"You take up drinkin'?" I joked as I finished the last sip of whiskey. I could feel it burn on the way down as I looked at him and waited for him to say something. He must have drank the entire bottle; he didn't look too good, and with him being so big, it took an awful lot of alcohol to get him as drunk as he was.

I looked around the kitchen noticing that it was completely trashed. Maybe he'd gotten into an argument with his dad. They didn't always see eye to eye—especially when it came to school and football.

"My parents are dead," he said, staring at me for a few seconds.

He was looking at me like he wanted an answer. Like I should have had an answer. But I didn't. Hell, I couldn't bring myself to actually believe what he was saying.

I sat there, put the empty bottle down on the table, and just stared at it. I didn't believe it. I couldn't bring myself to, and I wouldn't. I watched Darry slowly get up from the chair he was sitting in, stumbling towards the cupboard above the fridge.

"The hospital called and-" he paused as he pulled out a bottle of rum, "and they're just gone."

I had the sudden urge to jump out of my chair and book it out of there as fast as I could. I did not want to be there and as much as Darry needed a shoulder to cry on, I was sure as hell not his guy. I wasn't good with shit like this, I wasn't good with family issues and I sure as fuck wasn't any good with emotions.

He tripped over his feet a little as he made his way back to the chair, sitting down he looked at me again. Bad things always happened to good people, so what the fuck was the point in being good? Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were the parents that everyone wanted on this side of town. Everyone loved them. Everyone.

"I don't think I can tell my brothers," he slurred as he opened the bottle of rum, taking a big gulp and running his hand through his hair. I knew he was on the verge of tears, and I didn't blame him.

"What the fuck am I gonna do Dal? I can't take care of two kids. I can barely take care of myself," he said. "You gotta cigarette?"

I looked at him for a second before pulling a pack out of my jacket and handing them to him. Darry never smoked because of football and his parents, and now I guess both those things were out of the picture. Everything was gonna be fucked up, and if it ever started to get better, it'd never be the same.

"What if someone takes them away, too?" He asked, putting a cigarette in between his lips.

I watched him as he lit the smoke. I was pretty sure he wanted me to _say _something, but I knew I'd end up saying the wrong thing. Really, there wasn't anything right anyone _could_ say, and I was never one to comfort people. Hell, if it were anyone else—if it were any other family—I would have left a long time ago.

"They won't," I said lamely, not looking at him. I didn't want to look at him, Darry was tough, and it was weird seeing him the way he was. He was always knew what was going to happen next and how he was going to handle it. He was pretty much the perfect person and he was really gonna get the fuck outta Tulsa but now, now it was different.

Now, he had two kids to look after—still had to fucking finish raising one of them. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that he could do it. He loved his brothers too much to fail, and that…that was something.

I finally looked up at him. He could do it. The look on his face told me he believed me.

And then he broke.

I was really surprised he lasted as long as he did. It was the first—and I was pretty sure it would be the last—time I'd seen him cry. I sat there trying to think of something to say as he slumped over the kitchen table and rested his head in his arms.

"It'll be okay man," I lied, taking the rum bottle from him and putting the lid back on.

I always hated when people told me that things would be okay when it felt like the whole world was crashing down on me. Especially when they didn't have a fucking clue if it would be okay or not ; but now I knew why people said it.

Truth was that I didn't know if things would be okay. Shit, with the luck people like us had, it wouldn't be. But I would do everything in my power to make sure it was gonna be okay. It was the least I could do; they were the closest thing I had to a family.

**Reviews keep me happy.**

**A/N2: I need to thank Kris for be amazing and correcting all my crappy grammar skillz, yes with a z… I lover you! 3**


End file.
